From the Other Side
by watchingthewind
Summary: In life, Izuna conformed to the typical attitude of the Uchiha during his time, in his hating for the Senju clan. However, after his death at the hands of the long forsaken rivalry, would his views come to change? Slight TobiIzu. Angst. One-shot.


It was childhood that saw us meet, flaming red to midnight onyx; blade to blade, glare to glare. He was a Senju, and I? An Uchiha, by blood and by birth. The emblem on my crest a paper fan, unleashing a torrent of fire. The intent of the flames was left to interpretation. For me, it was hatred. A feud began long before me, my father or my father's father took stand upon the earth. It migrated through the generations, reason lost to time, leaving nothing but the memories of lost souls to fuel what would have been embers. A cycle was born; blood for blood, and life for life. Vengeance drove us. The desire to wipe out the enemy, until only one was left superior. On that day, it was not time. My brother called for retreat, speaking a notion that I, at the time, thought impossible. He gained his eyes that day, and I would always wonder why.

Over the years that followed, it was the battlefield that became our playground of sin, spilling the blood of one another, as well as others. We grew from boys to men, standing by the sides of our brothers in arms. My brother announced leader of the clan, from an age younger than most in our history, and I his right hand, my resolve to aid him and the future of our heritage. With eyes blazing scarlet, I took charge with our warriors, the cries of battle and clashing of weapons ringing through the open air. It was mid fight that my fate changed, that my hopes would be met only by squalor. The action so quick, it didn't register, not until the blood bubbled in the back of my throat and passed out of my mouth. Pain shot through my entire body, a weakness seeing me collapse, only to be caught by the arm of my brother. The Senju leader attempted to pull the wool over his eyes, but I would not allow it, my words being listened to. How wrong I was.

I left to him my eyes, so that he could continue to protect the Uchiha, and remain proud to our namesake. My life then was ending, nothing but the darkness of death in my sights. I felt my last breath leave my body, and my heartbeat stop. I had died. What I expected, I didn't know. Not heaven or hell, nor even limbo met me, but rather the sight of myself, laying lifeless whilst my brother wept. I tried to touch his shoulder, thinking somehow my solid form was an illusion. My hand went through. I wasn't there. I felt the panic coursing through me as I called out, only to receive no answer. I was a shadow. I was the illusion.

I spent my days watching, everything blurred into an eternal minute. There was no sleep in this plain of existence, only solitude. I watched the creation of an alliance. I watched the rise of a safe haven. I watched peace being established. If only I could have shared in it. I was a fool. I let views of generations before cloud my mind to what could have been, to what could have saved more lives had it been done sooner. However, ifs, ands or buts made no differences here, the lonely thoughts of a mind left to itself. I watched as my brother tried to move on, the days he spent busying himself, and the nights he spent staring with dull eyes at the wall. It was my fault. I failed to stay alive. Frivolously, I pursued ways to reach through the invisible barrier between our realms to contact him. At times, it almost seemed to work. I would make a sharp movement, or touch his shoulder, and he would turn to look right at me, but he could never hear nor see me. I learnt to accept it.

On occasion, I found myself wandering the streets of the settlement my brother helped to create, until I stumbled upon my killer. He was alive. He was well. I would follow at times, making my presence as known as possible. It seemed he could pick up on it more than my brother. How fun it was to torment him. I would walk from next to him, creating the rift of wind that only he could feel. I would stand behind him, staring, and watch as the hairs on the back of his neck stood, and the shiver that rolled down his spine to follow. At night, I would stand in the corner of his office, should he be working late. During hours of darkness, I discovered that whatever powers I had in this form were stronger. I could cast the flutter of a shadow, just enough to make him ask who was there, and get no reply. Seeing him doubt himself, seeing him squirm, it brought me a sick sense of pleasure. Never once did I consider it wrong to undertake, for I would make him pay for what he did, even if the process was slow. I had plenty of time to spare.

Decades passed, and I still haunted him; watching, lurking from my dimensional plain. Until the day of his ending, I was stuck on the earth, in the translucent body that made not sight nor sound. I watched his last breath, and saw as his form met the same fate as me. He too was stuck here, or so I thought. He turned to me, saying nothing. But nothing needed to be said. He knew now the thing that watched him. The light. It beckoned, but not for me. My time was another. He back stepped into it, the stare of flaming eyes not leaving the sight of onyx, until he was finally enveloped into the warmth, the serenity of the next world. And I was alone, once again.

The interpretation of the flames had changed for me. No longer did they mean hatred. They meant drive. They meant protection. They meant destruction. They meant courage. They meant change. They meant life. Although my flames had been extinguished long ago, embers remained, buried in the blood of my kin.


End file.
